Missförstånd
by Kaniner
Summary: Berwald pushes himself a bit too far taking care of Fin, who still doesn't understand him. Set soon after leaving Denmark. First Hetalia fic!


BETA WANTED!

I like this fic, but I'm not happy with the end. None of the people I emailed to Beta it answered me back, and that was weeks ago… So, if any other reader would like to offer their opinion on the timing and conversation flow towards the end, I would really appreciate it.

I'm not particularly looking at grammar, but something just seems off to me. I don't know what about it bothers me or how to fix it..

Whoo! My first Hetalia fanfic! Huzzah!

Enough rambling and nonsense! You came to read a fic, so without further ado,

"Missförstånd"

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Berwald opened his eyes. It was another beautiful winter morning in Sweden in his small cottage he shared with Finland. Light streamed in from the window. It wasn't sunny, but light enough anyway through the haze of clouds. Fresh snow was on the ground, pristine and shining like diamonds.

Finland was still asleep. He was curled on his side, his back to the taller man. He was smiling, drooling on his pillow a bit. His light hair was messy, splayed over his face awkwardly. Since Fin was asleep, Sweden took the liberty to gently brush the hair back into place. He smiled.

"_Cute_," he thought. He then rubbed his forehead roughly with his hand.

Berwald was having trouble fully appreciating the beauty around him that morning. His head throbbed and felt foggy. He shuffled his way to the bathroom, careful not to wake the sleeping man on the bed. When he looked at himself in the mirror, he was pleased to note that he only looked about half as badly as he felt. He was paler than usual, though his cheeks were flushed. He had a fever, though how high he couldn't judge.

He shrugged it off. Maybe he was just cold because the fire had gone out. The winter, while beautiful, was very bitter. He couldn't hide from it inside; firewood wouldn't chop itself. Mustering what energy he could, he sagged down the stairs and to the door.

Hanatamago was awake and whining for food, so he filled her dish before he pulled on his boots and thick coat. He bundled a thick scarf tightly around his neck and chose his warmest gloves before setting out.

The air was cold, and the wind freezing. It nipped and bit at his face as best it could reach through the scarf. Not letting it slow him down, he trekked towards the axe embedded in his chopping stump. Luckily he had chopped enough trees down to logs to get them through the months, so half the work was done already.

Berwald followed his usual routine; chop as many as he could carry. Bring them to the door. Repeat until the pile was high enough to last a cold day. He did this every morning, but this time he was growing tired quickly. His heavy clothing was cumbersome as he swung the axe into the logs. He blamed the extra weight for his exhaustion and kept going. Finally, he was done. Sweden trudged back to the house, nearly dropping the last logs as he went. He didn't bother stacking them neatly atop the others but dropped then next to the pile and went inside.

Sweden shed his scarf, boots and gloves and lit the fire. It roared to life, instantly spreading warmth throughout the cabin. He nearly collapsed on the couch, chest heaving, all strength exerted. Hana jumped onto the couch and snuggled onto his lap, and he allowed himself to pet her and recover.

'_Fever must be pretty bad_,' he finally admitted, stroking the white ball of fluff. Berwald was getting relaxed with the dog's comfort and the fire's warmth, then heard movement from upstairs, footsteps and then water running. Finland was awake.

"Time ta make breakf'st," he said aloud. Hana yipped and jumped off his lap, delighted at the prospect of more food.

Sweden made knäckebröd with Kalles Kaviar on top of eggs [1] for himself and Tino. He was just setting two large, steaming mugs of glöggon the table when he heard his roommate approach.

Finland came downstairs, smiling. His hair was damp from the shower, and he wore black pants and a white long shirt with slightly billowy sleeves. Sweden admired that even dressed simply, the man was always cute.

"Good morning, Mr. Sweden," he said formally, but with a friendly smile.

Berwald deflated slightly. It had been a while since they started living together, but Tino still called him 'mister.' The formality made it impossible for the Swede to even consider calling Finland by his own given name, but he still settled for a nickname.

"God morgon, Fin," he greeted back.

Finland rubbed his arms together. "Chilly today, isn't it?"

Sweden looked down. How could he let his wife get cold? "…'ll get s'more wood," he muttered and went back outside. When he came back, Finland was already eating and was playfully teasing Hanatamago with a piece of bread. He was smiling and seemed to be enjoying himself, so Sweden relaxed. He put a couple more logs on the fire and poked it a bit, trying to encourage all the heat he could.

He went back to the kitchen but decided he really didn't have much of an appetite, so he sipped his drink and watched the two interact. Finland didn't look at him much during breakfast, he just played with the dog. Sweden didn't mind. He liked watching Finland smile and have fun. He only wished that Fin would do that with _him_.

His head was really starting to hurt. He briefly put a hand to his temple to massage away the pain. At this point it was more irritating than anything else, still manageable. He still had chores to do. While Fin played, he took their plates and washed the dishes.

The day continued much the same. Sweden took care of the household chores, all the while watching Tino and Hana. He swept, mopped, and washed the laundry all before lunchtime. Finland was nearby, walking the dog or reading. They didn't talk much, as Fin was too preoccupied for socializing.

While hanging the clothes on the inside line, Sweden started to feel his condition take a turn for the worse. The water weighted clothes were hard to lift with his aching muscles and he tired easily. He was feeling very cold too, though the line was in one of the warmest rooms in the cabin.

By lunchtime, Sweden was completely drained. He hugged his coat tighter to him. He was still freezing, even with his sweater underneath! He made sure to wash his hands as he cooked, trying his best not to spread any germs onto the food. He wasn't sure he had a cold, but fevers usually meant something was contagious. He set the table and waited for Fin to come. Berwald wasn't usually too strict about schedules until it came to mealtimes.

Tino bounded in with Hana, raving about a phone call he had with Estonia, something about a festival. Berwald smiled politely, not really paying attention. Tino talked more than ate, and usually Sweden loved listening to his voice, but he just couldn't concentrate. He was trying to hard to stay awake and ignore the spells of lightheadedness that plagued him. His breathing was uneven. He felt he was suffocating under the coat but if he took it off he'd freeze.

He became aware that Finland was frowning at him. He sheepishly made eye contact, trying his best not to seem imposing.

"Are you even listening?" Finland asked, aggravation plain in his eyes.

"…s'rry," Sweden said quietly.

Finland gave a miffed snort but didn't say anything further. The rest of lunch was silent. Tino wasn't going to talk if he felt it was a waste. He usually babbled when he thought Sweden was mad at him, but he did have a temper of his own. Berwald felt guilty, but he just wasn't up to talking.

"''ll wash up," Berwald offered quietly when they were finished eating. Finland smiled at him and stacked his plate on the counter by the sink, his irritation forgotten.

"You've been working hard all day," Tino said and gathered the dishes. "I'd like to do them."

"If you w'nt," Berwald said, grateful. There was nothing he wanted more than to go to sleep at that moment. He started in the hallway towards the stairs, but another wave of nausea hit him and he didn't think he'd make it up the steps. He settled for the couch, collapsing again onto the cushions.

Sweden's breathing was definitely heavy now, and he was starting to shake. He was freezing but sweating, and he felt sore. He had an aggravating feeling of weakness, and it was growing worse. Even while sitting down his head swam and he felt close to passing out.

He finally acknowledged he needed help, made himself stand and headed towards the kitchen…

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Finland washed the dishes in the kitchen, humming to himself. It had been such a relaxed day! He had read a great book, played with Hana and taken a delicious lunch Sweden had made for them earlier. But then….

Finland stopped, thinking. '_The conversation at lunch… Seemed even less than usual. He's so quiet and scary.. But he usually _listens _to me at least. Maybe he's mad at me?_'

The idea did not sit well with him. He always struggled to stay on Sweden's good side. He didn't want the man to yell or hurt him. Sure, Sweden never actually _did_ anything to him, but he always glared! It was so uncomfortable being around him.

'_That's not true_,' Finland chided himself. '_You _know_ he has poor vision, and that's why he does it. He's just squinting. Still! He looks so scary…_.'

Finland put his arms on the counter. He never knew what to make of the other man. His actions were kind, but he loomed over with a stern face. He rarely talked, and when he did it was hard to understand. He called him "wife" but Finland often thought the man surely hated him! Another thought that didn't bode well…

He was interrupted from his thoughts when he heard someone shuffle into the room.

"F-Fin?"

He turned. Berwald was standing in the entryway of the kitchen. Something was…off.

"Jag mâr inte bra," the tall blonde slurred.

"Mr. Sweden…?" Finland looked at the tall blonde, regarding him fully for the first time that day. The fire was warm, but even indoors he had on his heavy coat. He was squinting as always, but his gaze seemed…unusually unfocused. And…Had Berwald been this pale all day? Yet his cheeks were red. Finland questioned **why **hadn't he noticed before? "Sweden, are you-"

Berwald stumbled, then swayed on his feet. He crashed against the counter, then collapsed next to it. Finland cried out, dashing to his side. He put a hand on the tall man's shoulder, trying to both shake him to awareness and steady him.

"Sweden! Sweden!" Finland called in a panic, but the man didn't seem to hear him.

Berwald was staring somewhere past him, and slowly his eyes drifted closed. He sagged fully into the smaller man's arms, unconscious.

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Berwald woke to sunlight streaming through the curtains and birds chirping. The air was cold but he was borrowed warmly under thick comforters, in his pajamas, he noted. His hand, out of habit, grabbed his glasses from the bedside table. He looked around the room. He was alone.

'_Disappointing_,' he thought. '_And I still feel terrible…'_

Sighing, Berwald sat up. There were chores that had to be done. If it was this cold, he needed to chop more firewood before they froze.

He moved to start his day, but his head was spinning. A wave of nausea hit him and he sagged against the headboard, eyes closed tightly. He waited for the feeling to pass before opening his eyes and moving to the edge of the bed, slowly. As soon as his feet touched the cold, wooden floor he wanted to snuggle back under the blankets and

abandon the plan. But he had to keep the house warm, for Fin. He mustered up his determination, and stood.

He was still unsteady on his feet and had to lean on the furniture on his way to the door. Still, he focused hard and made it to the hallway before another aggravating dizzy spell hit him and he sagged against the wall. This one hit him far worse than just before. His vision swam and he nearly passed out. As his senses came back into focus, he was aware of cold liquid on his feet and a hand gripping his shoulder.

Squinting in confusion, he looked at his feet. Water. A basin and washcloth were overturned on the floor next to it. He moved his gaze and right at his shoulder Finland was glaring up at him. He had circles under his eyes, like he hadn't slept well.

"What are you doing out of bed?" the normally chipper man nearly shouted.

Sweden was confused, his eyebrows arching, as if to say it was obvious. "Had t' chop wood," he said simply, wondering why Finland was so worked up. He always did this in the mornings…

"Are you crazy?" Fin shouted. Firmly, but carefully he dragged Sweden back towards the bedroom. "I leave for five minutes to get water and you do this?"

Sweden was too disoriented to know just how Finland managed to drag his much larger self so easily back to bed, but he soon found himself again under the heavy blankets. Finland glared at him, his cute, purple eyes as ferocious as he could muster.

"I am going to get more water. Do. Not. Move," he hissed.

Sweden blinked. "Ja," he said before the smaller man stormed out of the room.

Sweden then noticed the chair on the side of the bed. Had Finland been taking care of him all this time? The thought warmed his heart more than the blankets, and made him very happy.

A couple minutes later Finland returned, the same basin and washcloth in his hands. He sat on the chair and scooted up to the bed. Dipping the cloth in the water, he dabbed the cool rag on Sweden's forehead. Sweden only gazed up at him, stunned that he was getting such attention from the one he idolized.

"You have a high fever," Finland said. "You've been out since yesterday. I wasn't expecting you to be awake, let alone moving…" He scoffed, frowning in annoyance. "Chopping wood… What were you thinking?"

"Di'n' wan' you t'be cold," Sweden mumbled.

Finland's mouth gaped open in shock, and a look of guilt phased through his eyes. "You… You're _this _sick, and you're thinking about _me_?"

"S'rry."

"Don't!" Finland snapped, shaking his head. Sweden was hurt at first, but then realized the anger wasn't directed at him. "Please don't apologize… It should be me."

"Vad?"

Finland hung his head, his fists clenched in his lap. The events of the last night flashed through his head.

_It was past midnight. The bedroom was lit by the moon streaming through the window and a candle on the bedside table. Berwald was neatly tucked in the bed. Sweden was sweating, breathing in horrible pants, like he had just swam a mile and was struggling for air. He skin was fiercely hot to the touch. He had rested for most of the day, but woke periodically. He was partially conscious, but the spiked fever of 41 C had brought a bout of confusion. Finland sat on the edge of the bed, monitoring him and nursing him as best he could. _

"_Förlåt," Sweden rasped, only half-seeing the blonde next to him. "Förlåt mig, Tino" _

"_Shhh," Finland tried to comfort him. He ran his hand through the man's hair, then wiped a cool cloth over his forehead. "Stop apologizing. "_

"_F-Fin?" Sweden finally seemed to recognize him. "Di'nt mean ta scare you ." _

"_Its alright," Tino assured him, thinking he meant passing out (which certainly did startle him!). _

_Suddenly there were tears in Berwald's eyes. He had a look of absolute grief and he moaned, "I _alwa's _scare you. Ne'vr meant ta. Don' want you t'be _afraid_ 'a me all th' time!" His eyes scrunched closed, and he made no sound, but tears still seeped out and streamed down his cheeks. _

_Finland went cold. He… He had never, _ever _seen Sweden cry. Even when living with Denmark's abuse and countless battles and defeats, Sweden was cold and strong, but he was crying now. Crying because of _him_, because _he_ was afraid of a man who had never showed him anything but kindness._

'_I've taken him for granted,' Tino realized solemnly. 'I won't do that anymore.'_

_He shook off his own guilt and smiled and gently to ease the ill man. He took a mug of tea with medicine mixed in and held it to the larger man's lips. "Drink, this will help you sleep soundly and lower your fever."_

_He held Sweden's hand and promised himself that once he was well again, things would change. _

Sweden started and jerked up when he realized tears were falling onto the small man's hands.

"Fin!" Sweden tried to hold Tino's hands but he pulled out of his grip. "Wht's wrong?"

Tino finally looked up, tears streaming heavily down his face. "I.. I feel terrible," he choked. "All day… all damned day I was playing and lazing about while you were working hard.. All while you were sick! I didn't even notice!" He broke off and sobbed, rubbing his hands over his eyes. "You take such good care of me, but it took you passing out for me to even notice something was wrong! How self-centered _am_ I?"

Sweden froze. Fin didn't understand, he did those things because he cared! He didn't want him to worry…

"I…Yer not," Berwald said, forcibly taking Finland's hand. "I _like _tak'n care 'f you."

Tino looked relieved, but bewildered. "Why didn't you say anything though? I could have helped!"

"Was'n a big deal," Berwald murmured, turning his head slightly away to avoid eye-contact.

Fin seemed furious again. He leaned over the man, clearly upset. "Not a big deal? Its your health! You have to take care of yourself first!" He looked frustrated, and again Sweden noticed it seemed inward.

'_I want to talk to him about earlier but… I don't want to embarrass him,_' Tino thought. '_He was delirious when he was crying, even if his words were what he feels._'

Sweden was looking up at him, his fevered eyes curious at his sudden silence, but filled with patience for him to continue, soft emotions Tino had never noticed before.

"You do so much," Finland said softly, rewetting the cloth and wiping his brow again. "I've taken you for granted, but you are more important than you realize. Don't take _yourself_ for granted. Who can I tell my festival ideas to if you're sick or worse? Who will take of Hana? Who…" He paused his movements, his hand stilled against Berwald's cheek. "Who will keep me company? You're…very important to me."

Sweden blushed but leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. His heart was soaring! He had dreamed of Tino opening up to him, being close to him, even before they had left Denmark's place. Surely, not only was Tino not afraid of him, but he cared!

"Th'nks," Berwald whispered, sighing. "Jag älskar dig, m'wife."

Finland knew enough Swedish to know exactly what the man had spoken. He said nothing in return, just kept stroking the man's hair until long after he had fallen asleep. He couldn't return the sentiment, and didn't know if he ever would. But for the first time since he had begun his life with Sweden, he felt completely right. He knew his place was with Sweden, and he would take care of him for many years.

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So, what do you think? The beginning sort of dragged, but I wanted to emphasize how Berwald felt isolated from Fin, and how hard he worked even though he felt like shit. I wanted to make Fin seem like "the bad guy" even tough he didn't do anything outwardly wrong.

I also didn't want Finland, who has feared him for so long, to all of a sudden be like "Oh I love you too baby!" That's not realistic at all. What would come next is a lot of hard work, commitment to change and communication. I don't _do _high-school style lovey/gooey fluff, haha.

To any Swedish readers: Sorry! I have no idea how to write out the accent! I thought to use google translator to make the Swedish voice say English lines but I don't know how accurate that would be. Probably not at all. It also seems that Berwald's accent is specific to him, and in most fanfiction isn't like that of normal Swedish people.

[1] knäckebröd is crispy bread (like a cracker). Kaller Kaviar is a brand of caviar fish paste. Yeah. Sounds lovely, ya? Haha. It tastes best with eggs, and is a common Swedish breakfast food.

Glögg is a warm drink made in winter. Its got wine, juice and spices. Its never too early to drink! Haha

Jag älskar dig = I love you

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